Save My Soul.

Trigger Warning.

‘’How do I begin to set out to the world this painful reality that even I aren’t sure I have fully acknowledged? Most nights, I am uncertain of whether I have the reality of a tomorrow. I can’t seem to decide if seeing the night through is my main goal or whether I am just being dramatic over my emotions. There is this unbearable need inside my head that tells me that nothing is right, that nothing I feel or do can or will make anything right.

For the past two weeks or so I have been fighting the reality of the fact that I have been feeling suicidal. It has no longer just been fleeting thoughts anymore but solid assurances that I no longer can decide on whether life is bearable enough to be lived. I have thought through it so many times, I have questioned myself on whether it is real in both my heart and my head. It physically aches inside me whenever I think that I could finally be ready to let everything go. It is a very unbearable burden to carry because I have found no means or way to tell this to anyone. I am convinced that either no one will believe me or they probably won’t know what to do.

How do I begin to explain this to anyone when I myself haven’t entirely come to terms with this frightening realization? How do I put this into words to anyone else when all I truly feel is shame over even feeling like this? I say this with absolute resolute, the only thing that I am certain about in the midst of all the turmoil going on inside my head is that I have absolutely no idea what to do or where to start dealing with these feelings or these thoughts of suicide. It scares me not knowing how or where to start. So yeah, that is right where I am.’’

The above text was written by a very desperate, sad, despaired and most especially depressed girl. I can’t say with certainty that any of those damning feelings are gone yet, or better yet, I do know where they are. They are retreating to the back parts of my mind now that it feels a lot like I have a bit of amour against them. When I read those words above, I remotely can’t entirely recognize the girl who wrote them. She looks and feels a lot like a hollow shell and it is terrifying to think that at any one point I was this girl, I am this girl. The emotions feel like a vague memory, it has the vagueness of a sketchy dream that only holds bits and pieces of what is to be recalled of it. I wish all the memories of that pain could be erased but some of it is marred on my arms as-a-result of trying to drain it out. The pain is stuck deep inside, deeper inside than the mere blood in my veins. The scars in my hand are just a reminder of a very short-lived relief that didn’t ever quite feel like relief at all.

There is a very stark difference between being alone and being lonely. My depression is always certain to make sure I feel the best of both worlds, at least in regard to those two aspects of isolation. The most singular of the two feelings is when your entire being is encased in a fog of loneliness. No sense of reassurance would convince you otherwise of the fact that you are absolutely alone and beyond lonely. This time around, it dawned on me that I wasn’t intentionally choosing to be lonely apart from the intentional choice I made to be alone. It took all the energy I had in me to have any conversation I might have kept up with during this time. I can say with certainty that I have not spoken to the few people in my life to whom on occasion have seemed to retain some parts of me as their friend.  The looming darkness is all that encases you, it is all I could think about. I was entirely convinced that nobody in my world would find a solution enough to save me from the dark pit I was in. I felt nothing beyond the scariest darkness known to my mind.

I feel like it’s important I make this fact clearer, depression is not just a bit of sadness. It is a lot more than even I can express. It is for sure something I still don’t think I have the full grasp over in regard to how vast of a feeling, an emotion, a concept, a thought, a sensation, an enlightening and a whole lot more. Depression is also quite invisible. It never is something graspable to the naked eye. For me, it is very suffocating. My mind never feels like it has any space to breathe, it feels like the only space I can afford to think is in remote gasps of air. It feels like it would resemble a lot of what I think it feels like to drown. The panic, anguish, despair and the complete lack of hope for rescue sounds a lot like how my mind is right now. Sally Brampton, the author of the memoir Shoot the damn Dog wrote in a very precise manner what it is like to experience the depravities of the mental fuck that is depression. She describes its most corrosive aspect as despair and catastrophic. She continues to elaborate on how impenetrable and unendurable it is.

I have experienced suicidal ideation before but never to its full potential as it was this time around. I knew I was deep in the gutter, submerged under when I couldn’t quit thinking of just how peaceful and pain numbing dying would feel like. When the thought became a permanent fixture in my mind, I knew there was no way around this. I didn’t want to be alive anymore. That awareness became the dawn of a new twisted kind of sorrow. I recall on some nights crying so deeply and feeling the pain and anguish so physically from knowing that I was lost in myself. I was lost in my hopelessness and my mind had resided itself to no longer living but to completely quit existing. To a degree, I thought if I hurt myself enough, it would ease that ache even just a little bit, enough to satiate it. Dull it down. It didn’t quite do it. It led me to commit my first suicide attempt. I remember the night vaguely but I recall the intent behind the pain I felt that night. I recall the finality to my thoughts when I placed the razor to my vein. I remember the soaked tears in my sheets from my wet face. It was a pain I can only describe as purely indescribable. 23rd of October,2021 I decided I didn’t want to live anymore, at least not in the state of mind that I was in.

I can’t say with absolute resolute that I don’t want to not live anymore. Am alive now, still in despair but alive. I’m on antidepressants currently so it is all I can hope that along the way, I find it easier to want to stay alive. A lot is still yet to be done and I can’t say for certain when any of it will be done. I still have struggles that play a major role in making it harder for me to fully get the help I need so it is all I can do but trying live a minute at a time. It has taken me nearly a month to write this and I’m okay with that. Writing and reading for me take quite the hit in periods of my depression so to an extent, I am proud I got to be candid about what it has and is still like for me to live with this unbearable monster that lives inside of my head. 

Some version of me + My Anxiety

Disclaimer; This is a very anxiety-ridden post so I hope you can bear with me.

What my anxiety told me today…

  1. My blog update (this very same one that I am writing now) will not make any absolute sense to anyone who will come across it, which begs the question of why am I even trying to write it to begin with. It will probably be a jumbled mess of my thoughts. No one should be subjected to reading my not so coherent thoughts.
  • Everything I will probably write here on this precise post will make zero sense to anyone. It probably is and will be an exaggeration of my said anxiety and it does not need to be highlighted at all.
  • I am incapable of writing anything substantially true and intelligent about what it feels like to live life with anxiety. I am never too conscious of it anyway, it probably is just another fabrication of my mind. Get over yourself Mercy, you can’t get any less pathetic than this.
  • I am an imposter at my own experience in anxiety which technically means that I probably don’t have anxiety at all. Nothing about my life can legitimize that I do actually have anxiety so why don’t I merely stop trying to convince the world that I do have it just so I can cover up being a weak human being.
  • Nobody likes my blog. Everyone probably thinks of it as quite mediocre and cliché. So what, that you experience a degree of sadness more often than not and that you are an attention seeking bitch which is probably why you cut yourself and have zero concept of selflove. That doesn’t make you anymore depressed than the rest of the world. The world truly doesn’t care much about what you write. They definitely won’t care about the pity party you are having with yourself right now by writing this.
  • I have no place in this world for me and my anxiety. (p.s I genuinely do believe this.)

My anxiety reared its ugly head out today. Maybe it was due to the fact that it was a lot more at the forefront of my thoughts today than it is on other days. Late last night before bed, my sister and I were having an honest conversation about why it is life feels very hopeless currently, especially for me to be precise. It is through that conversation that I was able to reveal to both myself and her just how immensely anxious I am over what is supposed to be the next phase of my life. The revelation of just how much anxiety I have for this next phase of life was both liberating to know as well as scary as hell. Later after having that conversation, I went to bed with quite a lot on my mind. Now that I knew why it was taking me so long to make any resemblance of progress in life, it left me questioning how exactly am I supposed to get past the crippling anxiety that I have.

Coming into today, I knew that I wanted to write concerning every little thought that was skimming through my mind about what it is like to have anxiety always as a voice second to that of your conscious thoughts. I didn’t know how I was going to be elaborate enough to give a sense of clear understanding and depiction of what it is like to go through the motions with anxiety wrapped around you like a second skin. Just thinking about how I wanted to project my anxiety in words, gave me major anxiety. The anxiety I got earlier just thinking about what I was going to write about was what prompted me to start this blog the way I did. I would begin by depicting exactly what it is like to have anxiety have you second guess every little bit of everything that you do. I was and still very much are conscious of my anxiety now even as I write this. My anxiety has me immensely worried that I’ll come out looking like a fraud or an imposter who’s just full of excuses over why she hasn’t made any kind of progress in her life since finishing school. I tried writing down prompts as a result of my anxiety so I wouldn’t keep repeating myself but now as I am trying to write this using them, I am afraid that they don’t seem to be making much sense to me now. That statement alone is a very big depiction of just how prominent anxiety is for me.

I have alluded in previous blogs just how weird of a child I was. As I have grown over the years, a lot of those weird quacks that I didn’t quite understand why I had them now make a lot of sense because they were merely just anxieties I had. Today, most of them would fall under what most would perceive as just personality traits and I too think that to an extent, they have morphed deeper into my personality than I care to admit. I not too long ago wrote about how bad of a perfectionist I am and maybe I didn’t dig deeper on why is the case but I understand now that it actually has a lot to do with my anxiety. For me, having everything happen in a precise and specific way allows me to gain control of the outcome. At the back of my mind, anxiety is the voice that requires me to feed on that sense of control. I have tried to never find out what the consequences will be if things don’t happen in perfect order but I am probably guessing that the world doesn’t collapse and neither does my life. Anxiety makes you too scared to find out that nothing probably does happen.

In the case of my not so foreseeable future, anxiety has taken away every sense of hope I have that adulting is not some big bad wolf that intends to gobble me up and spit me out like cud. It was a long time coming but for the past couple of months, I have been evading the subject of what’s next for me now that school is done. I have told myself and those around me of just how unprepared I am for working or looking for a job at that. Most people’s responses to my uncertainty of choice are that I would eventually have to start somewhere, regardless of whatever. As long as the rest of the world has gone down the same road into adulting, I don’t have much of a choice in it either. Revisiting this conversation with my sister was able to give me insight and perspective of just how much my anxiety has the reign over this. I probably did not take time to really go into the depths of why I was so resistant to the idea of working and of not feeling qualified enough to work in my field of expertise. Feeling anxious can do that to someone; Blind you from the fact that it is no ordinary fear but in hindsight, it is genuinely crippling anxiety that you’re feeling.

Now that I am aware of just how much anxiety has a hold on me right now, I do not know how to work my way around it. I still very much are terrified of looking for work and starting that work. I feel quite amateurish in the career I chose and I don’t think there is much I can do about that feeling, not when it will probably take me years of more studying in school for me to trust in my expertise. On previous occasions, I have had a little control over my anxiety through smoking and truthfully speaking, I can’t seem to even stand the scent of an unlit cigarette, let alone smoke it. I thought before that if I replaced self-harm with smoking, it would give me a better hold on my anxiety levels but I am aware that it merely turns into a rabbit hole that is never quite easy to get out of. I have been clean for a couple of months now, I think it’s safe to say I am trying to keep it that way.

It is of great importance that I try and get a hold of this crippling anxiety that I have over starting work and getting a job. Right now, all it has achieved is make me absolutely horrified about life and what to expect of it. My ambitions in life have become less because I am convinced that I don’t want to live long enough to keep trifling with anxiety at every step of my life. Anxiety demystifies death for me every other day. I can’t even express this to anyone because it comes off as such a cowardly notion to not want to live over the tiniest bit of change. Anyone would think that dying is too big of a reason or in their minds, too melodramatic of an excuse to do just because I am not ready to take up life by its horns… and I wouldn’t blame anyone for thinking that. Anxiety is a ball of melodramatic fear over consequences that are very much unlikely to happen. I can’t tell you what exactly petrifies me so much about the whole idea of getting a job as a counsellor and having a supervisor but I can assure you, I am convinced in my mind that I am not ready for it and if on the chance that I do start off unprepared, I will be the world’s unhappiest human being which eventually might give me reason enough to jump ship from this thing we call life.

Hello.. To no one in particular.. It’s been a while. At least for me it feels like its been a long while. Thought I’d take a well deserved time out from writing cause for the longest I didn’t feel like I was truly letting out my thoughts and feelings as candidly as I had hoped too…not that I’m sure of myself as of now on whether this will be as articulate and precise as I want it to be. Like always, I have no sense of direction with what I’m writing right now but sometimes it’s just therapeutic for me to kinda go with the flow & let free of whatever that is swirling through my mind. For starters, it’s been quite the chaotic last couple months of my life. Calling it a rollercoaster sometimes doesn’t cut it, it doesn’t fully delve into just how exhausting & frustrating the cycle that is my mental state seems to get sometimes, if not all the time. I’ve felt everything and nothing all at the same time. Every inch of me knows chaos & turmoil so personally that I can’t seem to pick out the difference between the two anymore . I’ve felt the lose of bits of myself and the slow gradual process of becoming empty inside & hollow in different fractions through time. I truly wish I wasn’t here right now writing about my misery. I wish my life had some remote sense of comfort, colour, happiness & normalcy that I’d be able to truthfully share with the world without having to fall back into the subject of my battles with myself.In the midst of all that whirlwind, I have had moments whereby I have felt like I’ve had some kind of slow revelation. This being the days where I’ve felt okay, I’ve felt calm and collected in some form. But that’s just it, for a moment.. It kinda never last long enough for me to revel in that moment of peace because I’m quick to fall back into the state of panic of whether it’s just a matter of time before I loose myself again. I can’t seem to even cut myself a bit of slack. That’s the cue for my frustrations. The back and forth of my thoughts that are trying to convince themselves that they can get out of that depressive state still in the midst of the voice at the back of my mind that reminds me that I’m on the train to loony ville.This year round, every bit of feeling has felt more intense & deliberately prolonged than before. Each struggle felt aggravated & escalated more than ever before which in turn felt like I was unlocking an entirely whole new level of depression that I clearly had never experienced before. This level of pain reared its ugly head and didn’t mince it’s presence ; it was there and it wasn’t going anywhere . (Trigger Warning). In previous blog updates I have mentioned of my struggle with self harm and how much I latch onto it as a pain relief from my mental & emotional turmoil. That too escalated quick & fast and I was loosing grip of everything and relying on it nearly as often as countless times a day. It got so bad, I began to worry that I was running out of space to cut since I’d ripped up most of my wrist. I was in so much emotional pain I didn’t know what else to do… but a conscious part of me knew that if I didn’t seek some form of help, I was going to do irreversible damage that I’d have no way to get out of. I soon had to start on therapy which went on for a while. I got my first set of antidepressants and they were hard. It was a real adjustment for me in all aspects, physically, emotionally & mentally. I was going through it, that’s the only way I can express how grand the change was for me. It took time for me to feel like any positive change was happening and through it I got to feel something that had never been a sitting thought in my head but now seemed to swirl quite a few times through my mind. What most people don’t realize is that in not all cases does self harm mean that one’s end game is them taking their own lives. I for one never did it to die. In its own twisted way, it stuck as a reminder that I was still alive, that I wasn’t entirely consumed by my demons.Feeling suicidal for me was a shame I couldn’t bring myself to admit to anyone; that it was actually a thought in my mind. I for one didn’t want to raise any alarm over it cause I believed I was still strong enough to at least never actualize it. I kept repeating it to myself that I am too much of a coward to take my own life and that I’d never want to be the cause of such pain to my loved ones . What I didn’t realize is that, it was alarm enough to just think about what suicide would be like for me. Whether it would finally be peaceful & quiet. I began to feel unfazed by my self harm and it became more than just my norm, it became an addiction. This has to be the first time I’m admitting that to anyone apart from myself. It quit being a coping mechanism for me and it became a latch for whenever my mood would fluctuate, whenever I’d think about it, I’d want to simply actualize it just cause I could & just cause it made me feel better in its own way. I knew I should have been scared to be this unfazed and unbothered by it but a part of me still isn’t, till date. This went as far as consciously triggering myself sometimes so I’d convince my mind that I wasn’t in a calm state and that gave me reason enough to actualize the thought of cutting myself. This is hard to admit to myself and to anyone who’ll read this. Currently, that’s my greatest battle right now, self harming over every little shift that takes place in my mind. It makes me feel sadistic, crazy ,demented and mentally damaged. I’m not proud of it.So that’s the much of a rundown of my time, of what my life has been for the last couple months. I truly didn’t intend to write, at least until I was sure I wouldn’t be writing about how messed up my life is. I actually wanted to express something less depressive, something less exhausting, something less sad… but I guess, that’ll have to wait for a while till I can get the right treatment for my mental struggles. I often wish that I could get an actual diagnosis over what it is exactly that’s the root cause for the shifts and mental instability that seems to happen a lot to me. It’s my next hope that I can finally get a treatment for what specifically is ailing my mind. I’m hanging in there. I’m grateful for those who look out for me. I genuinely wouldn’t be here without some of the people in my life… and I hope that after all this is done and I’m able to finally get a sense of mental structure and stability, I’ll be able to be that sense of support to someone else who’ll need it at that time.

Keeping Score

It’s been four days… Four very lengthy days. Four days where I want to give myself a little bit of credit over… I haven’t cut myself in four days. I really had hoped I never would have to say those words out to the universe because I thought if I withheld them long enough, they would have simply just been a bad nightmare. It’s still been a nightmare, just one that’s been very real and not just in my dreams. I want to say I wish I had no recollection of it happening but I have it clear as day in my mind. The very same mind that’s been hurting and suffering in a tag of war between sanity and slipping.

One of the hardest things I have felt in the recent couple of weeks is sitting on the edge of so many queries and trying to wrap my head around why I would feel or in this case not feel the need to hurt myself. It’s been as foreign to me as it would be to anyone else. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would come to this but it’s here now and its my struggle.

I haven’t been kind to my mind because I felt like it wasn’t being kind to me. Maybe I should not have turned it into a war between myself and my mind. Maybe if I had offered myself enough love, I wouldn’t be forced to look at cut marks on my wrist every morning of every day. I have a lot of maybe’s of how I wish things could have turned out different.Writing about this right now poses such an anxiety to me. I’m doing the very thing that despite how numb I have been for the last few weeks, I have offered to feel one thing and that’s fear. Fear of how people would soon look at me different for what I have been doing to myself. Fear that I may be slowly and steadily loosing grasp of rational thoughts and putting in place my irrational actions.

Sometimes the stigma doesn’t have to come from everyone else, sometimes it comes from ourselves. I want to hate myself, I already do for what I am doing. I wish I could say I had the knowledge to switch it off but I feel like my hands are tied behind my back.

Cause I know I’m only human, don’t know how many sunsets I got left. And I don’t want to ruin, this moment by wondering what comes next. I just want to love me, like its all am living for. Hold myself close ,enjoy me more and spend a little less time Keeping Score.

The BRIDGE I crossed

I’ll try be discreet… It’s all am trying to be right now…not draw any attention to myself .Today I crossed a bridge. A bridge I never in my wildest dreams ever thought I would cross. A bridge I never thought would be in my life story .I always thought I was better than that….Ironic huh! That I would never have to feel the need to cross that bridge, but I did.

I wish I could retrace back so many steps that I took today but I can’t. It’s already done. I crossed a bridge I should never have. Not even in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would be strong enough to do it but crossing it for me just proved how strongly weak I am. I didn’t fight myself from it even when I know I should have. I didn’t try to stop it, I went ahead & did it.

As I took to crossing that bridge, I lost a bit of myself with every step I made. I could feel pieces of myself detach from me and break a little bit more .I wept for each piece of me that died today on that bridge. I wept for each person who I disappointed for crossing that bridge. I most especially wept for I knew what it fully meant me crossing that bridge. Those tears were my grief for the person who kept breaking as she took steady calculated steps across. I don’t recognize that person as myself anymore.

Finally, we crossed the bridge. The me now, took time to look over at all what I had lost over the period of crossing over. I saw the pieces of me that I will never get back. I saw the once hopeful little girl who thought that despite the little dark place in her mind that whispered to her, she could overcome it . She wept for me, she too saw the pieces that died along that fateful bridge.

Now here we are. More hollow than we ever were before. I walked away from that little girl because she no longer could save herself. I am a shell of the person I was today morning. I never quite understood what sort of peace people spoke about after crossing that bridge ;it sounded absurd to me especially since its not a bed of roses. But I felt it. It was crazy how quickly calm and collected I felt. I thought I was numb before, this calmness took numbness to an entirely different level. I didn’t feel, I didn’t hear, I didn’t think. It was QUIET. So quiet in my mind, I haven’t had such an eerie feeling before that that was that calming. I now well understand the peace that came with crossing that bridge. The whispers finally shut up because they got what they wanted. Through that bridge, I made a deal with the devil in my head and there’s nothing I can do to go back from it.

..Wounded Healer

Well here goes nothing… Been a while since I wrote. Been a while since I did a lot of things. I’ve had a really hard and hectic couple of weeks and men has it been messed up 😧. Every time I intended to write I would have an anxiety attack and couldn’t bring myself to face that I was in a black 🕳. I don’t really even know where I would start if I decided to explain what I have been dealing with. The perks are that depression and anxiety are real and they push you to lengths that you are incapable of thinking straight.You don’t have the normalcy you hold every other day of your life. Happiness, joy, tranquility and stability tend to be extremely farfetched in those moments and sometimes you drown in all that but don’t necessarily die so it’s continuous. You wish to talk to someone, just one person to understand you and wish to help you pick up your pieces because at that very moment you’re crumbled to bits of who you were before. You want that person to listen and tell you not just once that things will get better but to walk you through getting there because then your like a baby learning how to walk all over again.

I had emotional breakdowns whenever I was alone because all I wanted was to sink farther in my bed and just drown in the sorrow I was feeling. There are moments when I would feel okay but whenever a memory of pain or sorry would sneak it’s way in, It would be like a snap of a finger and I would turn into a shell of person. Depression got me screaming on the inside but was too exhausted to bother about it on the outside.It got me presumably to start having thoughts of self harm 😔. That was my ‘hit rock bottom moment ‘.I knew then that I needed to talk to someone else about it and preferably a therapist. Best choice I had made in a while.

In my luck, those thoughts of harming myself only went as far as thoughts and it’s thanks to my sister. She has been my greatest anchor, only she knew what went on behind our closed doors. My therapist was finally the shimmer of light I was looking for, she became more than just my therapist but my friend who understood and she has a special place in my nearly destroyed heart. She pointed me in the direction that I could get better and she took my hand and walked with me. She makes me see that I can be happy with myself and with my insecurities too. She reminds me everyday that life is a step at a time,I probably knew that, I was just taking life in fifty steps instead. My friend as I like to call her is the other clutch I was looking for and I am happy I found her.

I am still going to therapy every once a week and it’s opened my mind to a whole lot about my life and how to deal with the things I go through. My therapist/friend has taught me to enjoy the simple pleasures of life and I am learning that for me knitting is one of them too. I haven’t thought about hurting myself for a week now and that to me is progress I never thought I would make. So I am grateful. Mental health is not something that should be downplayed like it is by so many people. Going through anxiety should not be a normal for anyone and neither should depression. I still have those moments where it’s hard to pick myself up but I am grateful for my family and my therapist because I am able to be motivated to pick myself up for me and for those I love. I am a wounded healer.

p.s If you got anything at all you may be going through, don’t hesitate to text me if you want to have that friend I never had and kept looking for. I’m always open to help someone else from dealing with mental health issues. Please don’t downplay it and assume it thinking it will go away. It will always hover like a dark cloud in your mind and when your most weak, it will creep back like it never left. ✌..And a beautiful picture of me 😁.

Help Me

I thought I understood why people harm themselves before but I guess I was wrong. I want to hurt myself to take this ache away, to distract me from myself and the throbbing in my chest. I don’t want to hurt myself but I can’t seem to keep the thought out of my mind.. I am no longer happy with myself and I feel broken. I want someone to help me before I loose myself.

To say I don’t know if I am capable of being helped is an understatement. I am disappointed in myself for wanting to hurt myself and having the thought in the first place. It’s been six years since I cried as hard as I did yesterday and I still feel the need to. I don’t want to hurt myself just as much as I don’t want to hurt those who love me… I keep wringing my hands because of the anxiety I feel. I don’t want to look at knives because I am scared I might just do something stupid. I feel like I no longer have control of my own mind and it’s scary for me .I am so so afraid of even being alone. I thought I was okay and now I feel like I just want to keep crying.

Peace feels so farfetched right now. It’s hard. It’s hard to carry all my emotions right now. I want, no I need help. I need to get better.